Respite for the Weary
by Casy Dee
Summary: Oliver is injured, and Felicity is determined to take care of him, even if it is to just to rub ointment on his bruises. (Oliver/Felicity)


**A/N: My first foray into this fandom. I don't know what exactly possesses me to write for some and not for others, but evidently Arrow is "some." Hope you enjoy. This was a lovely break away from my current original work, and I certainly enjoyed writing it. First fanfic in over a year!**

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**Respite for the Weary**

Oliver sported bruises often. His line of work, he was lucky if it was only bruises. On a really bad day, it could be a bullet hole. She'd been there for those. Not good. Oliver didn't complain when it was bad, but he could whine like the best of them when it wasn't. That was how she could tell when he was _really_ hurting. From the near silence coming from Oliver as he walked into the Foundry, she knew he'd gotten wounded.

He silently shrugged off the leather jacket, only slightly less silent as he peeled off the tight black t-shirt he usually wore under his leathers. She watched him from under her lashes. Oliver stripping off his shirt was generally the best part of her day, but this time she was watching for injuries. Felicity couldn't stop the gasp that flew past her lips at the mottled purples, browns, and reds decorating his skin, but Oliver just gave her a quelling glance. His poor back.

"Oliver! What happened?"

He held up a hand to forestall her questioning, "Felicity, I'm fine."

He didn't look fine. Aside from the mass of bruises along the left side of his ribs and back, he looked exhausted. The deep purple shadows below his eyes, and his slow movements betrayed him. He'd been looking for information on the man in the skull mask for so long now, and all he'd managed to do was to run himself down. If he kept pushing himself like this, eventually he'd make a mistake, and in his line of work that could prove fatal.

She patted the steel table in front of her that generally doubled as a surgical gurney. "Lie down on the bed. I'm going to put something on that."

"I don't need-"

"Oliver, how hard is it to get you in bed?" She froze, heat rising in her cheeks. Oliver's eyebrow lifted, but he mercifully let her poor choice of words go. "Get on the bed, Oliver. You're hurt, and you're just putting yourself in danger more if you go out there again like this. You _need _to take a break, and the quicker you heal, the quicker you can get back to sticking arrows into bad guys." Felicity held up a small tube of ointment, "Arnica gel. It helps reduce pain and bruising. Works wonders of you use it right."

He sighed, and she was certain he was certain he was going to continue to argue, but evidently the look on her face was enough to convince him she wasn't going to give up. He moved towards the table, climbed onto it with a grunt and waited, his face turned away from her.

Felicity squeezed out a generous dollop of gel into her palm, set the tube down and warmed the arnica between her palms. She bit her lip as she surveyed the damage to Oliver's broad back. It was confined to mostly the left side. If she was to guess, she'd say he'd taken a bad fall. Either that, or someone had been kicking him repeatedly. She gingerly rested her hands on his left shoulder, then began to work the gel into his skin. His muscles bunched when she hit areas that were particularly sensitive, his sharp inhalations the only indication that she was hurting him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured each time he flinched. She said it more times than she liked.

Once she'd worked the gel into the bruised areas, she started smoothing it over the unblemished side, "You're tense. This'll help, and it's good for sore muscles, too," she said by way of explanation when he cracked his eyes open to look at her questioningly.

Again, she thought he'd argue. He wore that stubborn argue-y set to his jaw that he got when he disagreed with her, but when she began to knead the hard muscles of his shoulders his eyes fluttered shut again and the hard lines of his face softened. Good. He needed this. For her part, she'd imagined her hands on that beautiful back of his more times than she'd like to admit, although admittedly in a little different setting. The reality was better than her dreams. Maybe she could convince him that she should give him a daily massage for, you know, health reasons.

She bit her lip and tried to focus kneading the knotted muscle beneath her fingers. She _did_ want him to feel better, and for him to allow something like this was a rare opportunity. Oliver wasn't very good at letting people take care of him. A low moan escaped Oliver, cutting through her train of thought. _I have always wanted to make you moan like that. _She pressed her lips together, determined not to speak _that_ particular thought out loud. Oliver shifted as if he was going to get up. She didn't say that out loud, did she? _Oh, God._ She replayed the last minute in her head frantically. No, she didn't, she was sure of it. She had just stopped massaging. She didn't want to stop touching him; she wasn't done yet. He'd just taken her by surprise. She moved to his mid-back and started working the taut muscle there, and after a few beats, he returned to his relaxed state.

She continued to knead, moving down lower when his trapezius and lateral muscles felt less like knotted rocks and more like smooth rocks. She didn't know a man's body could be so hard. If she closed her eyes she could imagine her fingers digging into his back, her body crushed against Oliver's. The Foundry was cold, but she was feeling pretty flushed, her breathing escaping her in a short stutter. Enough of _those _thoughts. If she kept this up, Oliver would notice the effect being so close to all that naked flesh had on her, and then he'd want her to stop. She was doing this for him, not for her, and she wanted to finish the job. Well, if she was completely honest with herself, _mostly_ for him, and just a little bit for her.

Felicity drew in a deep breath and dug into his lower back and was rewarded with another soft sound of contentment from Oliver. _Oh, boy._ Now her dreams would have an accurate soundtrack. _Awesome_. He wore his green leather pants so low that it was debatable whether this was technically back or ass. It was exposed, so she massaged it. She was fine with it, but Oliver probably wouldn't be if she let her fingers keep walking. She kept her hands to where skin was exposed. She traced lightly over the large section of burn-marred skin on his lower back. She was sure there was a story there, but all of Oliver's stories were bad ones, and she didn't want to ruin this… whatever it was, that they had in this moment. _Serenity, peace, escapism?_ She kept her mouth shut and continued to rub.

She was running out of skin. _Damn. _Oliver had beautiful arms. _They had to get sore too, right? _Before he could think of moving, she started working on his right shoulder. A satisfied grunt from Oliver suggested that yes, he did enjoy it. Down the corded muscles from his shoulders to manipulating the lines of his triceps, and wow, what nice arms he had. Felicity smirked as Oliver's lips parted; she'd never seen him so at rest. The metal gurney couldn't be comfortable to lie on, but the look on Oliver's face said he didn't want to move. He moaned again as she moved to his bicep. She was going to need a cold, cold shower after this. Probably daily. He lie pliant under her hands as she moved to his forearm and then onto the other arm. She wondered if she could manage to get him to flip over. Her heart might stop, but it would be a good death. Worth a shot.

It took two tries to get the words out. "Oliver, roll over. I need to get to your ribs." She was proud of herself, her voice sounded normal.

He opened his eyes, the blue swallowed up by the black of his blown wide pupils. Felicity swallowed hard and gave a small smile, "Please?"

He sat up, wincing as he did.

She turned around, grabbed one of the heavy blankets they kept down in the Foundry and spread it across the top of the table where he'd been resting. "There. That should be more comfortable for you."

Oliver wore a strange expression, more inscrutable than usual. Maybe she should have stopped while she was ahead.

"Why are you doing this, Felicity?"

She sighed, "Because you need it, Oliver."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he lay back down, this time face up.

Felicity approached again, suddenly nervous. This seemed more intimate, doubly so with Oliver's intense stare fixed upon her. She cleared her throat, warmed more gel in her hands and started in on the bruises mottling his left side. Granted, the worst of them were on his back, but it had been a good enough reason to get him to let her do this to him… _for him_, she corrected. His eyes closed, and it was easier to concentrate on her task. His forehead creased as she glided over a particularly tender area. "Sorry, sorry…" She wanted to see his face smooth and soft again. He had enough pain in his life. Still, she hesitated for a moment before allowing her hands to glide over his chest.

His breath hitched, and his jaw clenched. For a second she thought he had an injury she hadn't seen yet, but then she realized it was because of she'd done to his body. She'd swept her hands over his small flat nipples. File that under something Oliver Queen liked. She continued the motion upward and dug her thumbs in below his collarbone, moving in small circles. Better to concentrate on a non-erogenous zone. As much as she'd enjoyed his reaction, she thought she'd better keep to something safer if she truly wanted him to relax again. The large knot of scar tissue was strange under her fingertips, but not unpleasant. It was just Oliver. Felicity worked her way down, swallowing hard as she found out that yes, his abs were as rock hard as the rest of him. For the hundredth time she wondered how he'd manage to survive injuries that left scars like the ones on his torso. Oliver Queen was one resilient, stubborn, man.

She gave a small sigh as she ran out of skin to massage. She could go back over the beautiful lines she'd already traced, but she was pretty sure Oliver would question that. If not now, then he would later, and she wouldn't chance him shutting down what connection they _did_ have for anything. Better to stop it now and replay this episode as often as possible in her mind. Her lips quirked up in a soft smile as she looked down at Starling City's dangerous vigilante hero lying soft and pliant, a ghost of a smile on his lips. She was tempted to let him stay there to rest, but he'd do better to go home and get into a real bed.

She rested her hand on his shoulder, "It's best to re-apply over the bruised areas every four to six hours. I have an extra tube at home. I'll bring some into the office tomorrow."

His eyes fluttered open, soft and unfocused and for a moment he looked like a different man. His gaze sharpened, and along with it came the sense of gravitas that was part and parcel of Oliver Queen. She understood completely. She would have loved to stay in this little world where she was free to soothe him and he would let her.

"Thank you. I do feel better," Oliver said as he sat upright.

"My pleasure," Felicity replied, and then flushed as she realized how it sounded.

Oliver's lips twitched, betraying his amusement at her verbal misstep, but as always, he let it go.

She picked up her bag and cast one more glance over him before she left, "Goodnight, Oliver. Get some rest."

"Goodnight, Felicity," he replied. "Cold shower first," she heard him murmur under his breath.

END

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**A/N: This little scene wouldn't get out of my head, so I wrote it. I hope that you enjoy it, and if so, please leave a lil note to tell me so. Reviews mean the world, and are an endless source of encouragement. Think of it as your applause at the end of a play. ;) Thanks for reading.**


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